Stockings
by Sigma Creations
Summary: My Christmas offering, part of the series of fics that began with Hope Springs and Another Chance. Christmas fluff. Enjoy and Happy Christmas!


"Happy Christmas," she hears him murmur near her ear before she feels his cheek rub against hers, the roughness of his morning beard growth making her whimper in protest. He chuckles and softly presses his lips to hers, making her smile and hum in pleasure as she blindly reaches her arms up over his shoulders, sighing and pulling him closer for another kiss. He shifts his weight towards her, rolling her onto her back as he leans his chest on top of hers, his left hand slipping into her hair as he deepens the kiss, igniting the fire inside her that only he can kindle.

"Mmmm," she hums again when he eventually pulls out of the kiss. "Happy Christmas, my gorgeous man." She smiles and finally opens her eyes to look at him.

He grins, his face lighting up with joy. "I love you," he murmurs huskily.

"Me too," she says, shifting her right leg a little to get more comfortable. There seems to be a weight on it that she suddenly realises is not Harry, and it makes her frown, raising her head to look.

"What is it?" he murmurs, watching her and pulling slightly back. "Am I squashing you?"

"No. There's something else on the bed."

He turns to look towards the foot of the bed and smiles. "That would be your stocking."

"My _stocking_?" she frowns in puzzlement and attempts to sit up.

"Father Christmas," he explains, and when she looks at him, there is a twinkle in his eyes.

She smiles, marvelling at how wonderful he is at times. Then to her horror, she feels tears well up and begin to slide down her cheeks. "Ruth?" he says in concern, moving closer again. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry, " she murmurs, fighting to regain her composure as she lifts her hands to her face.

He pulls her gently into his arms, running his hands up and down her back to comfort her, his warmth and touch calming her, so she soon has her emotions back under control again. She sniffs and pulls back, wiping away her tears as she attempts a smile. "I'm sorry," she repeats. "I didn't mean to do that. It's just... The last time Father Christmas brought me anything was when I was ten... before Dad died and I just felt..." She tails off in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Ruth." He presses his lips to her forehead. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't. It's a wonderful thought. You're a wonderful man, Harry. I can't believe how lucky I am. I can't believe you did this for me."

"You haven't looked to see what you've got yet. You might change your mind about the whole thing once you've seen what's inside."

"Not a chance," she smiles and kisses his lips softly. Then she turns towards the stocking, reaching for it and pulling it between them. It's got her name embroidered on it, she notes with pleasure, lifting her eyes to his once more and smiling as she comments, "It's heavy. There's only supposed to be one lump of coal in it, you know."

He laughs, shaking his head and murmuring, "Not a chance, Ruth. You've been far too good this year. Very, _very_ good indeed."

"To you maybe."

"Which is all that counts," he grins.

"So _that's_ what I've been doing wrong all these years," she jokes, "failing to give Father Christmas a blow job."

He looks shocked for a second before he dissolves into laughter, falling back onto the bed and clutching his stomach. When eventually he stops, he turns to look at her again and reaches up a hand to cup her cheek, whispering, "Oh Ruth. How I _do_ love you."

She smiles, pressing her lips against the heel of his hand and saying, "Me too." Then she sits up and arranges the pillows behind her back and the covers over her legs before turning to the stocking with glee and reaching a hand inside it. She begins to pull things out, finding new bottles of all the creams, lotions, soaps and shampoos she uses, marvelling at the trouble he's gone to to find out which they are and source them, some of them being from some rather obscure places. The chocolate coins make her smile and the orange at the bottom makes her laugh. There's a sugar mouse and some chocolate buttons too, as well as some of those liquor filled chocolates that she adores and always has at Christmastime. All in all it is a fantastic haul and she can't help feeling particularly enamoured of him as she lifts her eyes to his.

"That is the single most wonderful surprise anyone has ever given me, Harry," she says. "Thank you."

"What? Better than that time I woke you with-"

" _Much_ better," interrupts pointedly, fighting the blush that's spreading across her cheeks at the memory.

He grins, his eyes alight with mischief. "I'm glad you like it. It wasn't an easy thing to pull off, you know. I had to enlist Nico's help to discover where you got all this stuff."

"Is that why he was taking an interest in where I get the coconut hand-cream?"

"Among other things."

"I hope you didn't also ask him about the edible knickers that seem to have sneaked their way into here?"

"No," he laughs. "That was entirely my initiative."

"I take it they're your reward for being such a wonderful Father Christmas?"

"Only if you want them to be. I could always eat the chocolate buttons instead."

"You can eat anything you fancy the look of as long as you eat it off me," she murmurs. "Now come here. I have this sudden desire to shag Father Christmas senseless."

"You're in luck. Father Christmas is on holiday for the rest of the year and you can have him as many times as you like between now and next Christmas."

* * *

 **I'd like to dedicate this story to my Grandparents, Edward and Rosalind, who are very much missed, especially at this time of year. The Christmas stocking filled with lotions and what not was inspired by them. Happy Christmas, everyone. Love, S.C.**


End file.
